


No One

by kittensmctavish



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Asexual Character, Blood, Blood and Injury, Choking, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Have I Mentioned I'm Bad at Tagging?, Hurt/Comfort, I'm Bad At Tagging, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Kylo Ren trash, Medical Inaccuracies, Medical Procedures, Original Character(s), Panic Attacks, Pre-Star Wars: The Force Awakens, Scars, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, Still trash, broken feels, i am also trash, throw me in the trash compactor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-04
Updated: 2017-05-04
Packaged: 2018-09-28 05:19:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 19,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10073843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kittensmctavish/pseuds/kittensmctavish
Summary: Kylo Ren was interested in no one. Cared for no one. Loved no one.(Or: "Matt the Radar Technician" meets a new Starkiller Base employee.)





	1. Matt the Radar Technician

**Author's Note:**

> I've been stuck on this damn story for months. 
> 
> But what the hell. 
> 
> I'm publishing the first part of it to see if some feedback will trigger something in my brain to finish this damn thing. So...

No one was in the canteen when he walked in.

Well, he thought so, at first. But as Kylo Ren – or rather, Matt the Radar Technician – adjusted his (fake) glasses, he did notice one person, sitting in the farthest corner.

It was a young woman, maybe about his age, if he had to guess. Neat hair, impeccable uniform…nervous disposition.

She hadn’t noticed him right away, either. Not even when he started to walk slowly towards her. She seemed to be watching the other entrance at the other end of the canteen. But then she turned her head (Kylo could read in her eyes, not trying to delve into her mind…yet…that she must have been doing this for some time). Her eyes landed on him, and she immediately stood up, spine stiff straight.

“Hello,” she said, quick and…almost panicked. “Are you my supervisor?”

Kylo paused. 

“Um…no?” he said, a bit afraid his disguise was too transparent. “I’m Matt. I’m a radar technician.”

Her posture relaxed the tiniest bit.

“Oh…okay,” she said, not unkindly. “Are you new, too?”

“…yes.”

Thank the Force. She was new. She probably had no idea who he really was. …maybe she did, who knew.

“Um…so what’s your name?” he asked after a moment.

“U-N-zero-one-zero-one?”

The woman turned, wisps of her hair floating in the air as she did, at the sound of the stormtrooper’s voice.

“Yes,” she said. “That’s me.”

“Follow me,” the stormtrooper ordered passively. “Your supervisor is waiting.”

“Okay, thank you,” she said politely. She glanced at Matt, giving him a slight nod before following the stormtrooper.

Nice to meet you. Unspoken in the air.

Well. That certainly was…an encounter, Kylo thought. Now, if only every encounter with all his other employees went as…smoothly?...as that one had gone?

***

“Whaddup, MATT?”

‘clank’

Kylo’s head darted in the direction of the tool that was now feet away from him.

“Hey, you kicked my wrench!” he shouted in the direction of the retreating stormtrooper, before he glared down at the now-empty space. “Jerkface.”

Kylo took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. Remember his place. A radar technician.

And no one would stoop so low as to help a radar technician.

The footsteps of someone else were passing by him…but then they faded in the direction whence they’d come. Then they came back towards him.

“Here,” a voice said. Kylo looked up to see the young woman from this morning handing the wrench to him. A slight sad smile on her face.

Sorry about that. Unspoken in the air.

“U-N-zero-one-zero-one!” the stormtrooper called.

“Coming! Just…getting a start on my job, sir!” she said, quickly following her (apparent) supervisor.

Kylo looked down at the wrench that was now in his hand. Then back up at the calcinator he was supposed to be rewiring.

Better try to get something done before the shrill muffin-loving radar technician got back.

***

When Kyl—MATT walked into the canteen for lunch, just about every table was full. Well, except for the one in the farthest corner. No one was sitting at that table.

…well…he THOUGHT. But as he walked further into the canteen, he DID see someone sitting there, hidden behind one of the taller stormtroopers.

It was her. Again. Sitting all by herself.

He had intended to sit at a fuller table. Gauge the opinions of those who worked at the base. But…

She looked up and around. Saw him standing...probably making a very awkward spectacle. Smiled at him for the briefest moment, then looked back down at her tray.

Sit with me? Unspoken in the air.

…he walked to that furthest corner and sat down across from her.

“Hi again,” he said after his tray clanked abruptly down on to the table.

“Hi again,” she said with a small laugh. “So…”

“…how are you?” he asked, looking down and poking around at the food he dearly hoped was edible.

“Okay, I guess,” she said. “First day jitters and all.” She glanced around the canteen again. “Feels like school all over again.”

“I know, right?” Kylo had no idea.

“How’s your day going? You know…outside of the wrench incident?”

“Um…good, I guess,” he said, shrugging. He took a bite of pasta salad, and tried not to grimace. It wasn’t BAD pasta salad. He just wasn’t a pesto fan.

“So…you’re a radar technician? That’s what you said this morning?” She took a bite of her own pasta salad. Whether she liked pesto or not, he couldn’t tell.

“Yes,” he said.

“And your name is…Matt?”

“Yes.”

“What’s that short for?”

“…um…Matthew?”

“No, I mean…your number. …Like, mine is U-N-zero-one-zero-one.”

“Oh.” Right. Those. “M-T-one-one-eight-three.” There. That sounded plausible and natural. “So what’s your name?”

“Oh.” She smiled a withering sort of smile. “I’m no one.”

“…no, you’re not. You’re a…um…sorry, I don’t know what you do. But you’re a person.”

“No. No One. That’s my name.”

Kylo must have looked just stymied enough for just long enough, because she covered her mouth in a somewhat desperate attempt not to laugh.

“I’ll explain,” she said, pushing her tray to the side, and leaning forward to cross her arms on the table. “It’s…sort of become a thing in my department.”

“In one day?”

“I know, right?” Another withering smile. “Well…okay. What’s my number?”

“…U-N-zero-one-zero-one.”

“No, not…zero.”

“…OH. U-N-oh-one-oh-one?”

“Yes. UN-0101. What does that sound like?”

“…”

“Yoooouennnnnohhhonnnnnneohhhhonnnne. Youenowenowen. Unknownnoone. Unknown. No one. So…I’m No One.”

Kylo raised his eyebrows. That was…a stretch if he’d ever heard one. But still…no one? Not even here a full day and she was already considered a no one.

“Not…Unknown?” he finally said. Because…what DO you say to that? But she smiled. Still withering, but tinged with amusement. Understanding.

“They tried both,” she said. “They decided ‘No One’ was funnier. ‘Who’s assigned to clean this room?’ ‘No One is.’ And thus…” She leaned back in her chair, spreading her hands as though presenting a surprise.

“…but you have a REAL name, right?” Kylo said after another long pause. She nodded.

“My parents aren’t as cruel to name me ‘No One’.”

“…that’s good.”

“…not that anyone in my department is cruel. Strict, maybe, but…I mean, I really am kind of a no one, in the grand scheme of things here. I’m just a…chambermaid? Janitor? Cleaning person?” She shrugged. “Like I said. No One. Well, no one compared to…”

“Kylo Ren?” 

It was out of his mouth before he could think about it too much. But hey. Maybe it was worth a shot.

“I guess, yes,” she said, eyebrows raised. “He’s pretty high up there, being a commander.”

“Yeah, he is,” he continued. “What do you think of Kylo Ren?”

“…I…don’t have any thoughts about him,” she said, pulling her tray back in front of her. “I’ve never met him and…I didn’t really know anything about him before coming here. So...”

“Oh.” He supposed that made sense. 

“I get the impression you think highly of him?” It wasn’t a teasing question, or mocking. Genuine. He nodded. “Well…I’ll keep an open mind if our paths ever do cross.”

***

No one had been cleaning Kylo Ren’s quarters.

At least, so he thought, at the time he – Kylo Ren, not Matt the Radar Technician – opened the door to his rooms. He stopped still at the sight of…

…someone increasingly familiar to him. Well…to Matt.

She’d whirled around at the sound of the door sliding open. Her back straightened, and she clasped her hands behind her back, trying to ball up and hide a cloth in her clutches.

“I’m so sorry, sir—Commander,” she said. “I was told you wouldn’t be present here for another hour or so, and I am almost done, but…it’s my first day, and I know that’s no excuse…” She lowered her head. “I’m very sorry, Commander, sir.”

Kylo stayed silent for a time. She didn’t move. He looked around the room. 

“You’ve done a fine job,” he said. It was true. 

“Thank you, sir…Commander.” She still didn’t move. Not even to look up at him.

“I have…returned earlier than I normally do. It is not a regular occurrence.”

Silence.

“…you are not in trouble.”

She nodded, glancing up at him quickly before looking back down.

“Is there anything I’ve missed, Commander, sir? Or is there anything else you would like for me to do, Commander, sir?”

“You do not have to keep calling me ‘Commander Sir’ or ‘Sir Commander’,” Kylo snapped, tiring of the double title.

“Which would you prefer I address you as?” she asked him, stopping herself from the offense. Kylo watched her as she straightened her posture even more, if that was possible.

“‘Sir’ will suffice,” he decided. She nodded.

“Do you require anything else of me at this time, sir?”

“No. You may go.”

“Yes, sir.” She nodded once more as she walked to the corner of the room and quickly gathered her supplies. She walked towards him, and paused in front of him. He looked down at her. Her head was still low.

“Excuse me, sir,” she said. Quiet. Polite. But afraid.

Oh. He was still standing in the doorway.

He stepped back and to the side to let her leave.

“Thank you, sir,” she whispered, nodding at him once more as she left. He turned and watched her walk down the hall. 

It was the same kind of step he’d seen when she was following the stormtrooper to meet her supervisor. Very quick. Obedient. Timid.

He walked into his rooms and closed the door.

***

It was a week since he’d seen her, as either Matt or Kylo. He didn’t think much of it, deciding to focus more on his undercover boss duties.

As Kylo Ren was being called a “punk bitch” by some troglodyte stormtrooper to Matt’s face, he was almost regretting this undercover decision. It was hard enough to keep his temper as Matt (especially with the muffin-loving shrew). But as the stormtrooper laughed in the middle of a bite of pasta salad, he found an opening…

…that opening being the troglodyte’s trachea, which he clogged with the power of the Force. (And some pasta salad. For verisimilitude.)

Zack – the officer whose son Kylo had accidentally killed – began asking if the troglodyte (Tim, apparently) was okay.

“Oh no, he’s choking on food,” “Matt” said, without a trace of concern.

It was going to be so easy. Lift him to his feet with a wave of his hand. Slam him into the vending machine. Concuss him, if not kill him.

No one would be able to help the poor fool.

As Kylo prepared to carry this out, he was momentarily thrown off by the clattering of a tray on the floor. And he was completely thrown off as one UN-0101 ran over to Tim, asking his permission to help him (to which Tim nodded violently), and then informing him quickly what she was going to do (to which he, again, nodded violently).

She wrapped her arms around Tim’s waist and helped him stand up, asking Zack if there was a way to get past the stormtrooper armor. Zack went to her side to fiddle with the armor, trying to remove the breastplate. Tim’s face was beginning to turn a flushed purple. Kylo, in his surprise, unclutched his hand…his power. Tim continued to choke.

When the breastplate was loose, her arms were around Tim’s waist again, and she balled her hands against Tim’s abdomen. She pressed them hard and heaved him back. Tim retched, but the purple in his face didn’t dissipate. Again, she pressed. And again.

“Come ON,” she grunted as she kept trying to dislodge the food from Tim’s throat. Zack stood by, reaching out to steady her as he pointed at someone and called for them to notify medical.

After several more tense moments, Tim coughed, wheezing in breaths frantically. His knees weakened, and he half-collapsed to the ground. She followed suit, having continued to try and keep him standing. Zack reached to help her up.

“I’m fine, help him,” she said, gesturing towards Tim. Zack bent to help Tim sit up, rubbing his back as he continued to gulp in air.

“Thank you,” Zack said to her.

“You…saved…my life—” Tim was cut off by a string of coughs.

“Don’t try to talk, okay?” she said gently, reaching out to pat his arm. She smiled gently at him. Tim nodded.

The canteen was once again filled with people and confusion as medical officials entered. They hauled Tim up and spoke to each other, some speaking into earpieces to medical quarters.

“Who assisted him?” one of the officials asked.

“No one did!” someone called from the back with a moronic chuckle. She rolled her eyes. Someone from her department, probably.

“UN-0101, sir,” she said as Zack helped her stand up. She turned to gesture at him. “He assisted with the removal of the armor; I didn’t know how.”

“Can you come with us to answer some questions?” the official said. She nodded.

Kylo…Matt…watched the crowd leave. Watched her leave.

He, himself, was a bit breathless from…how everything had not gone as he intended. From what she’d done.

How did she know?

***

Kylo had been practicing his lightsaber stances that evening in his room to pass the time before meeting with Snoke and Hux. No one was present.

That is, until his door slid open.

It was her. Her face was flushed, and her supplies were gathered haphazardly in her arms. He extinguished his lightsaber and lowered it.

A part of him was grateful he’d remained in his mask. Another part of him wondered why he was grateful for that.

“Sir, I’m so sorry,” she said, walking over to a table to arrange her supplies. “There was an…incident at lunchtime and medical questioned me for…well, to be perfectly frank, a ridiculously long time, and I’ve been trying to catch up on my shift all day and—”

“What incident?” he asked, even though he knew.

Well…Matt knew. Kylo Ren did not.

“A stormtrooper was choking, sir,” she said. 

“You yourself did not require medical attention?”

“No, sir.”

“…very well.”

“…I can come back later, sir, if you’re busy. I’m sorry for interrupting…even though I’m late and should be done by now and—”

“No.”

Her mouth clamped shut, and she looked down, her face flushing more.

“I’m sorry, sir.”

“Stop apologizing.”

Her mouth opened for a moment, before she shut it again.

“Was there something else?”

“…I was about to apologize for apologizing, sir.”

“…I have a meeting shortly. I will return later this evening. That should provide plenty of time for you to clean.”

She nodded.

“…you’re free to speak,” he said.

“Understood, sir,” she said, nodding, beginning to gather certain supplies to begin cleaning. “Is there anything in particular you need me to do while I’m here, sir?”

“No.” 

She nodded. He moved towards his door, which had remained open. In the doorway, he turned back around.

“What is your number?” he asked. She looked up at him.

It was the longest she’d looked at him. Well…at Kylo. Not Matt. Even then, she was still more willing to look away from him. From the mask.

“U-N-zero-one-zero-one, sir,” she said.

“Very good. While I am gone, I will verify your story. If I find you’re not telling the truth…”

A threat. Unspoken in the air.

“Understood, sir.” Her face paled as she turned back to her supplies. He watched her begin to work. If she was aware of his eyes on her, she acted as though he didn’t. After another long moment, he turned, his cape billowing behind him as he left his rooms.

***

Kylo had not been making himself popular as Matt the Radar Technician. One too many outbursts after anyone spoke ill of Kylo Ren (especially the lightsaber-throwing incident).

So he wasn’t surprised, after another week of not being able to restrain himself, when no one came to sit with him at lunch.

“Hi, Matt.”

He instinctively ducked; usually, the calling of his alias resulted in something of his being thrown or kicked or—

“May I sit with you?”

He looked up. Her.

“Yeah…yeah, sure,” he said, trying to manage a smile to answer hers.

“How’s your day going?” she asked, arranging her plastic cutlery.

“Oh, you know…rewiring calcinators and…um…technician-ing other radar.”

His wince was probably very visible at the idiocy of what he’d just said.

“Sounds very…technician-y,” was her response. Not mocking, but with a kind amusement.

“How about your day?”

“Oh…very clean. And janitor-y.” Kylo could tell she was trying not to smirk. “Increasingly so as the day goes on what with all the janitor-ing and such.”

“Okay, okay, I know technician-ing isn’t a word,” he snapped. She giggled at his frustration.

“Hey, come on,” she said, reaching for his hand. “I have moments like that, too. No need to worry. We’re friends.”

Kylo still frowned as he withdrew his hand from underneath hers. She smiled again – one that didn’t quite reach her eyes – and she looked down at her tray. 

They ate in a mostly companionable silence for a few minutes. But it was soon interrupted when she started to cough. Kylo looked up. She clutched the edge of the table with one hand, her other over her chest as she coughed. When she began to wheeze, he began to worry.

“Are you okay?” he asked, making to stand up, but she waved for him to sit down.

“Fine” she choked, reaching for her drink. She took a small sip and her coughing calmed. “Just…drank too fast. Went down the wrong tube.”

“You don’t need…whatever it was you did to that stormtrooper the other day?”

“No, no.” Her voice was coming back, her breathing growing normal. “No Heimlich maneuver.”

“Right. That.” She took another sip of her drink, then looked up at him, her eyes a bit watery.

“See? All fine now.”

“How did you do that?” he asked.

“…do what?”

“The…maneuver. With…?”

“Tim, the other day?” She shrugged. “Something I read about.”

“Really? Where?”

She was suddenly very focused on her food.

“Well…an old medical text I was lucky to come across when I was younger,” she said, looking up at him. “Don’t laugh…but I’ve always wanted to work in the medical field.”

“Why…aren’t you?” he asked. “Why would I laugh at that,” he’d almost asked.

“My parents…well…we didn’t have a lot of money growing up,” she explained, looking back down. “They wouldn’t have been able to afford to send me to the proper schooling. …so I read what I could find. It wasn’t a lot, but…” She smiled to herself. “It was more than what I would have hoped for, coming from what…where I did.” She stuck her fork in her pasta salad before crossing her arms in front of her. 

“But…surely if your parents knew—”

“I never told them.” She looked back up at him. “They always talked about being lucky for whatever work they could get. Whatever they had at the time, no matter how awful or little it was. So…what would have been the use in telling them? In getting my hopes up?” She smiled. No mirth in it. “I expected as much when I began to work. I’m incredibly lucky to be working HERE. It’s the best paying job anyone in my family’s gotten in…forever.”

Kylo’s heart couldn’t help but drop for her a bit in that moment. He didn’t know exactly how much the cleaning staff made on Starkiller Base…but he knew it wasn’t a lot.

“No, it’s not a lot,” she echoed his thoughts. “But…to me, it’s a fortune. I can hopefully be able to give my parents a good life when they can’t work anymore.”

Kylo was taken aback.

“How did you know…?” 

What I was thinking? Unspoken in the air.

“Could read it all over your face,” she said, her smile kind with the smallest bit of tease in it. 

“I’m that obvious?” Too much worry in his voice. Kylo asking, rather than Matt.

“No, not really…but it’s the kind of reaction I’ve come to expect.” He inwardly sighed in relief. “It’s the same reaction I get when…well, anyone else in my department finds out I really AM a no one. No one from nowhere.”

That same small sad smile.

“But anyway, Matt…” Her voice was now brighter. “I do have some news that may interest you.”

“…really?”

“Guess who’s assigned to clean Kylo Ren’s rooms?” Her eyes twinkled. 

Matt the Radar Technician had received the general reputation of being Kylo’s biggest fanboy. He realized he could use this to his advantage. Find out just what she did in his rooms when he wasn’t present.

“No one?” he asked.

“Indeed,” she laughed. “Yours truly.”

“What are his rooms like?” He could play fanboy for a little while. “Do you sneak around in all of his drawers and look for stuff?”

“Wha—no!” She looked offended. “Why would I do that? My job is to clean, not to snoop.” She poked at her food with her fork. “His rooms are…actually, very well-kept…well, on first appearance. He doesn’t like to dust. But hey, that’s what I’m there for. I mean, there are also some piles on his desk and tables that I try not to disturb or…” She gestured in the air. “Mess up, I guess.”

“Why not? Wouldn’t it make his room cleaner, if you put them in order?”

“Well…it’s possible they’re already in order. To him, anyway. And cleaning would mess things up…contradictory as that sounds.” She smiled a bit, almost to herself, but mostly to him. “I’m the same way with some things – method to my madness and all.”

Kylo had to give her credit. Her way of thinking was not only…courteous, in a respect, but also spot on. He did have some stacks of items in his room organized in his own chaotic order. He hadn’t noticed until just now as she mentioned it to Matt…but after he’d come back to find his rooms cleaned, the chaotic order had never been disturbed. He could still find everything.

“Have you ever walked in on him shirtless or anything? Or without his mask? Because I hear his face is the best.”

Her blush could be construed as flattering, Kylo supposed. He tried to quash that thought, because where had THAT come from (both the question and the thought about her blush)?

“No,” she said. “I’m scheduled to clean his rooms when he’s not there, but…”

Her manner was becoming increasingly familiar…it was as though she was before him. Kylo Ren. Not Matt.

“So you’ve met him?” he asked, continuing the manic fanboy façade.

“Twice,” she said. “Once, he returned…well, earlier than he usually does, according to him, just as I was finishing up. And…well, after helping Tim, I was held up by medical for questioning, and I got behind on my shift as a result, and he was already there when I finally arrived to clean.”

“So what do you think of him?” he asked. She shifted in her seat.

“I’m…honestly a little scared of him,” she admitted. “Just…in the sense that…well, he’s my superior. I’m always a bit afraid of authority figures, because they could easily…well, fire me. I mean, I clean his…private quarters, and that sort of makes him…another boss, as it were.” Her eyes shone with worry, and she leaned a bit closer to him, as though to divulge a secret. “After I was late, that second time I ran into him, he said he was going to try and corroborate my story, and if it didn’t match up…” Her face paled a bit. 

“He would what?” “Matt” asked. Kylo, meanwhile, wasn’t sure whether the worry in his own voice was genuine or part of the character.

“I don’t know,” she said. “He left it at that. I mean…I told him the truth, but…Matt, what if he’s there this evening when I go to clean, and he tells me I’m fired because I was late? I can’t lose this job, I just…can’t.”

“…well…Kylo Ren’s basically the most awesome commander in the world.” It was harder for Kylo to keep up this fanboy persona, knowing how genuinely distraught she was. …he could use this to her advantage, he thought during the slight pause in his sentence. “So if you told him the truth, and everything matched up, he wouldn’t fire you for that. I don’t think.”

“…really? You’re not just saying that because…you’re his biggest fan?”

“…well, maybe I am a little bit.”

She reached out and punched him in the arm lightly.

“You jerk.” She was laughing…so Kylo had achieved…not HIS goal, but…something he wasn’t aware he’d wanted to achieve. She reached out for his hand. “Thanks, Matt. I feel better.”

He kept his hand under hers for a few moments before slipping it away.

***

“I’m not sure I’ve ever been in your room, Ren,” Hux said, taking a discerning look around the sleek, dark quarters.

“It can’t look all that different from yours, Hux,” Kylo said, matching the condescension.

“Hmm... “ Hux was still peering at the various fixtures and furniture. “Much cleaner than mine.”

“Admitting your flaws?” Hux glared at the smirk Kylo was barely holding back.

“I mean…much less dusty than my own quarters,” Hux clarified. “Who’s assigned to clean your quarters?”

“No one,” Kylo said thoughtlessly as he adjusted the position of the lamp on his night stand.

“I can’t imagine you’re that fastidious,” Hux chuckled. Kylo clenched his fist for a moment, before turning to face the general.

“U-N-zero-one-zero-one, I believe,” Kylo answered.

“You know their number?”

“She told me herself. She was quite late one day, and I needed to corroborate her story. To see if she was worth keeping on.”

“So…is she late often?” Hux asked, continuing to admire the spotlessness of Kylo’s belongings.

“No,” Kylo said. “She had assisted with a medical emergency—”

“Ah,” Hux cut Kylo off. “The medical staff. They do like to harangue everyone who walks into their turf, don’t they?” He gave Kylo a grim smile. “Well, I’d say keep her on, if her work is consistent.” He was now talking more to himself. “May need to let go whoever’s assigned to my quarters, get this…UN-0101 instead.”

Kylo chose to say nothing.

“Well. We had business to discuss, didn’t we?” Hux said, clapping his hands together.

“Before meeting with Captain Phasma, yes,” Kylo said. “If you’re quite done admiring your own reflection in my furniture…”

That look on Hux’s face never got old, no matter how many times he provoked it out of him.

***

“You still have a job, I see,” Kylo-as-Matt said as she sat down across from him for lunch a few days later. “I told you Kylo Ren was the most awesome commander ever.”

“I don’t know about THAT,” she said, with a smile generated from his first remark. “I’m now assigned to clean General Hux’s quarters as well. And possibly Captain Phasma’s. So…that’s more authority to answer to if I slip up even once.”

“I bet Kylo Ren gave you the most glowing of recommendations,” he said. “He won’t let anything happen to you.”

“You seem quite sure of this, Mr. Radar Technician,” she fired back, crossing her arms and leaning closer to him. “How do you know so much of what Kylo Ren thinks?”

“Well…because Kylo Ren’s the best,” he said lamely.

“So you keep saying.”

“He is. Have you seen his lightsaber? It’s awesome.”

“Yes, actually,” she said. “…that I’ve seen it. I don’t know about awesome. Then again, I don’t know much about lightsabers, other than they look dangerous. So…if dangerous equals awesome, then I suppose you’re right.” She shrugged. “He was practicing with it, I guess, when I walked in late that one time.”

“Did he look awesome?”

“He…looked like he knew what he was doing,” she finally said, sounding a little exasperated. “Matt, I know as much about lightsabers as I do about being a radar technician. How about you talk about technician-ing radar for a while?”

“You’re never going to let me forget that, are you?”

“Maybe shut up about Kylo Ren’s lightsaber for a while and maybe I will,” she challenged him.

So for the next few minutes, Kylo talked about what he’d learned from being a radar technician. Which, if he was being honest, he WAS learning stuff. Even if he still wasn’t good at doing said stuff, he was learning. And rather than using the topic as a distraction to stop talking about Kylo Ren, she seemed genuinely interested in what he had to say. 

He tried to smother how…pleased it made him feel for her to care about what he said. And thankfully, there was a very easy way to smother it.

“Did you know Kylo Ren has an eight-pack?” he said.

“Matt, I swear…” She balled her napkin up in frustration.

“It’s true,” he continued. “A colleague of mine saw him take his shirt off in the shower. He said that Kylo Ren is shredded.”

“There’s a group shower I’m unaware of?” she asked. “I’m…honestly a bit glad I’m not assigned to clean that.”

“But are you glad to know that Kylo Ren has an eight-pack? Or did you know that already from accidentally walking in on him shirtless?”

“You are really eager for that to have been an incident that happens,” she said, pushing her tray away. “Are you trying to play matchmaker?”

“What?” Kylo asked.

“Like…are you a LOVE radar technician or something? Trying to get me to dirty Kylo Ren’s sheets since I already clean them?”

“Wha—NO!”

“Then why should I care that he apparently has an eight-pack?”

“Well…don’t women usually find that attractive in a man?” he asked, wincing at how pathetic he sounded. Really, he was still a bit taken aback from her matchmaker suggestion. At her…OTHER suggestion.

“I…don’t really care,” she said with a shrug. “Honestly, I’ve never really understood finding things like that attractive. Certain parts of anatomy, I mean.”

“So…an eight-pack doesn’t appeal to you?”

“Like I said, I don’t CARE,” she said, clattering her silverware a bit too violently on the tray. “It’s…not something I’m interested in. Physical attraction, sexual attraction…really, any attraction.” She looked over his shoulder at a clock on the wall. “I need to get back to work. I don’t want to anger the general or the commander.”

Kylo felt, rather than watched, her brush by him as walked away briskly.

He didn’t know why no one finding him attractive mattered so much to him. No one being interested in him in any respect, other than some frightening authority figure. But for some reason, it did.

He shouldn’t have been surprised. People didn’t care for him in most respects. It was easier that way, to be feared. 

***

It had stayed with Kylo Ren the rest of the day, that frustration. And the fact that it was staying with him made him even more frustrated.

“Matt the Radar Technician” had the afternoon off, but Kylo Ren had been assigned to train with some of Captain Phasma’s squadron.

Needless to say, his frustration made it hard to concentrate fully. And he took it out on those he was training with, every time he missed a step or couldn’t block a strike or any other time he screwed up as he usually did. If mark hit flesh, he didn’t bother with it. The hurt was all he deserved for being so careless…so useless.

He didn’t bother to look around his room, to see if no one was around. He just burst in, as he had so many times before, with a fierce scream. He threw his saber at something in the room, barely registering the sizzle and crash of its decimation, before summoning it back to strike at something – anything – else. He went on until the pains in his body prevented him from destroying anything else.

“Sir?”

He whirled around. She emerged from behind a wall, her supplies in hand, her face drained of color…he could sense her trembling.

“What are you doing here?” he demanded, knowing full well that she was just doing her job but too upset to care. She opened her mouth, then closed it. He reached out to her mind…anything she said could anger him further, she feared. He turned away, wincing at the pain it produced in his side. Grazed by a blast from one of Phasma’s best. 

“Sir?”

Stupid. Useless. Not quick enough. What did Snoke even see in him? He growled.

“Sir, are you--?”

He brought his fist down on the wound. Again and again and again, storming back and forth as he did. This, he thought as he yelled, was all he deserved. This pain.

“Sir, you’re hurt, please, sir!”

He was only faintly aware that she was approaching him…until she grabbed his arm and cried:

“Kylo, STOP!”

His fist uncurled, and he reached out to…slam the IMPUDENT little thing into the wall, how DARE she… But she’d already thrown herself back, the offending hand over her mouth.

“Sir, I’m so sorr—”

“What did you say?”

“I didn’t mean—”

“Did you just address me BY NAME?”

With three swift, sweeping steps, he was inches away from her, leering over her figure.

“Sir…please,” she finally said, gulping hard. “You’re hurt. I can help—”

“I don’t NEED your help,” he spat.

“Please, sir, I’ve read about—”

“Are you my doctor?” She stopped.

“…no, sir.”

“No?” he sneered. “Then what are you?” She looked down.

“I’m no one,” she whispered, her voice choking, barely audible to him.

As though reminding herself that she was a no one…

…that SHE was the…

…the worthless one.

He backed off. Walked away from her. Faced his bed.

“Get out,” he finally said. He knew without turning that she was looking up at him.

“Sir?”

“You heard me.”

“…but sir, shouldn’t I clean u—”

Her words shattered along with whatever it is he’d reached for with the Force and thrown against the wall (too close to her).

“GET OUT!” he screamed.

The pounding of his heart in his ears, matching the throbbing of the wound in his side, drowned out anything else she may have said or done. He wasn’t sure how long it took both sensations to subside, but when he finally turned around, she was gone.

Kylo took his mask off, hurling the helmet away and running a hand through his hair. Another shatter.

So what if it was his mask, his helmet, his saber.

All he was good at was breaking things.

***

He wasn’t surprised when she didn’t try to return that night to clean his rooms. But when he opened his door the following night to find no one had cleaned his rooms, he WAS surprised.

Because she was still there.

Everything broken had been removed, most of it replaced, and everything appeared…spotless as usual. And yet she was still there.

Her back was to him. She was kneeling on the floor, She appeared to be scrubbing away at…something…perhaps a scorch mark from throwing his lightsaber…

He cleared his throat. She didn’t turn (though admittedly, his mask had a tendency to…well, mask his voice too much at times). He stepped in closer and cleared his throat again, stepping around the bed, enough to see what on earth was causing her so much trouble…

…but there was nothing. She was scrubbing away at something that didn’t appear to be there.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“Cleaning.”

He should have scolded her cheek, much as he did last night. But her voice was so…harsh, yet unsteady. Contradicting, but no less…just…not her.

“Obviously,” he started, but she spoke again.

“I cleaned the whole floor but…then clumsy me, I dropped a bottle, it spilled everywhere, had to clean again, still wasn’t clean enough—”

“It’s clean enough,” he interrupted.

“No, it’s not—damn it,” she hissed to herself, ready to hurl the sponge in her hand – her red, cracked hand – at the floor. “Need more soap.”

“UN-0101, this is not necessary.” She didn’t appear to hear him. The growing frustration in his voice. She was dipping the sponge in a bucket she’d picked up.

“Yes, it is, it’s not clean enough, just let me do my job.” Her order sounded more like a plea. Something desperate tinged in her voice.

“That’s enough,” he tried to demand, to no avail. She seemed as intent as ever, and was about to kneel on the ground again when—

“STOP IT!”

The bucket clattered to the floor, soapy murky water splashing on her feet and his. A fist banged against the wall. The sponge fell from her hand.

She froze, her arms hovering around her head, fists clenched. Her breath caught. Kylo reached out as she tried to suck in a breath, but to no avail.

Panic. Utter panic. She couldn’t move, she couldn’t breathe, she needed to move, she needed to get away and she couldn’t, she had to breathe and she couldn’t…

Her dread slammed through Kylo without him needed to delve too deep into her thoughts…

He walked over to her, around to look down into her face.

Stricken. Eyes watering. Face flushing in the attempt to…

“UN-0101?”

What was happening? He wasn’t causing this at all, every sign pointed to him choking the life out of someone with the Force, and it wasn’t him, what was HAPPENING?

“What--?”

One pained shuddering inhalation, her eyes watering but empty, and her breath came again…but in short quick gasps.

“UN-0101, calm down,” he said, cringing at how harsh it sounded, afraid of worsening her condition. She just shook her head, continued to hyperventilate. “You need to calm down.”

“Can’t—” she managed before dissolving into more short breaths. He reached out to take her arms, lower them, but she shook her head, her whole body, and they remained where they were, closing in, hindering her breathing further.

“UN-0101!” Kylo wished, more than anything at this moment, that he knew her real name.

“No—panic—attack—can’t—stop—”

Kylo took her face in his gloved hands.

“Look at me,” he commanded as calmly as he could. Her head shook, tears loosening, small sobs mingling with her hyperventilating. “Look. At. Me.”

“Can’t!” she sobbed, shaking more. Her gasps worsened, alternating with her wails. If she didn’t stop, she was going to…

…but maybe it would be better if she did. 

He could help her.

Kylo let her face go. He stepped back. He waved one arm over her head and caught her falling figure with the other arm before scooping her up.

He must have been a sight as he made his way to Medical.

Imagine – Commander Kylo Ren, one of the most feared men at Starkiller Base, with a janitor cradled in his arms, in what could be construed as a caring manner. 

Ridiculous.

Kylo Ren cared for no one. 

…well…he did his best not to care.

***

The next afternoon, Matt the Radar Technician knocked on a seemingly random door. No one answered.

“…Matt?” she said, blinking. Her eyes were red. She wasn’t in her uniform (of course she wasn’t). Some shapeless plain pajamas, dark blue, sleeves so long they covered her hands. “What are you doing here?”

“I heard you were sick,” he said. “Had to check on my lunch buddy.”

“But…how did you figure out where my room is?”

“I’m a radar technician. I know things.”

It made as much since to her as it did to him, apparently, because she seemed to buy that. She stepped back and gestured for him to come in.

The room was small. Cramped. (Well, to him anyway, being as tall as he was.) Unsurprisingly, clean, save for the rumpled sheets on the bed. She went over and pulled them aside and tucked her legs beneath her, bringing the sheets over her thighs.

“How are you feeling?” he asked, pulling a chair from a small desk in the corner to across the bed so he could sit in front of her. She looked down. He saw her lip quiver. 

“Oh Matt…” She covered her face with her hands for a moment, as though to calm herself. Her eyes still shone with unshed tears when she looked at him. “I had a panic attack in front of Kylo Ren. I’m…mortified. I don’t know how I can go back to work.”

“Wait, wait…hold on…” He reached out, as though to slow her down. “Did he do anything to provoke it, did he…hurt you?”

He had to know.

“No…no, it was all me,” she sighed. “I’d felt it building all day and…for the most part, I had it under control, worked through it as best I could. But then I got to his rooms and…I couldn’t get the floor clean enough. I kept…screwing up and I just wanted to finish and I tried to get him to leave so I could and…it was stupid and irrational and I knew that but my brain just…and then I dropped the bucket and spilled everything and…I don’t know, that was just the last thing and I…broke…in front of him.” She covered her face again. “It was so embarrassing…he’s going to think I’m incompetent and he’s going to fire me.”

“Hey hey, shh shh…” He reached for her sleeve-covered hands and gently lowered them, gently clutching his fingers around the fabric covering her own fingers. “Did he…know what was happening?”

“I think I tried to tell him but…I couldn’t really breathe or talk…”

“Do they happen a lot?”

“No…no, this was the first one in…months, I think,” she said, retrieving one of her hands from his grasp to tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

“I’m…sure Kylo Ren will understand.”

“How? How are you sure? And don’t tell me it’s because he’s the best commander ever.”

“Well…what was his reaction?”

“I don’t…” She pressed a hand to her forehead, as though trying to remember. “I think…he told me to calm down, I’m pretty sure. And to look at him. And…I don’t remember a lot else, I must have passed out because next thing I knew, I was in the medical wing. I thought I maybe heard someone…talking about him carrying me here but…I doubt it.”

“Well…if he did, is that bad?”

“I don’t know…I just hope he didn’t hurt himself more than he already wa—” She stopped.

“He’s hurt?” he asked. She looked at him, reaching for his hand and gripping it tight.

“Matt…what I tell you…you CANNOT talk about it to anyone else,” she whispered. “I shouldn’t even be telling you, I don’t think, he may find out if I did.”

“What happened?” he asked. She breathed deep in through her nose. Partly preparing herself…but he sensed she’d been breathing deep all day. Calming herself, maybe savoring such breaths in the wake of hyperventilation.

“The night before, he…” she began, pausing, squeezing his hand tighter. “I don’t know what happened but…he was so…upset. So angry. He…just…took his lightsaber to everything. And he screamed so…he sounded so…and then he…something happened to his side, I don’t know what, but…” Her eyes were unfocused. “Matt, he kept trying to make his wound worse. Kept…screaming in pain but…didn’t stop. Like the pain was the only thing that made sense to him. And…I tried to get him to stop and that’s when…Matt, I grabbed his arm. And I called him by his name.”

“His…name?” He figured Matt would question that.

“Matt, I clean his room, I’m NO ONE compared to him.” She gestured to herself. “It would be like…I don’t know, addressing a queen or king by their first name. Reaching out to touch them to get their attention. I just wanted him to stop hurting himself further and I overstepped such a boundary—”

“Wouldn’t anyone else do the same?” he interrupted. 

“I don’t know!”

Kylo knew. Anyone else would have let him rage on. 

“It was…”

“Terrifying?”

“Yes—no—ugh…” She hid her face again.

“For him. Not…of him.”

“You…were scared--?”

“Okay,” she said, as though trying to start everything over. “I’ve heard rumors of such…incidents. And they always seem to generate one of two reactions. People are either terrified of him, think he’s going to hurt them for being the bearer of bad news. Other people…they treat him as a joke. Like, ‘oh, that’s just Kylo, overreacting as ever when things don’t go his way, trashing every room, so funny’ and it’s NOT funny. It’s…”

“Scary?”

“…yes, a little, but…also sad. I think.” She looked at him. “From what I can tell, he flies into a rage when something goes wrong for him. He doesn’t take it out on those who tell him; he takes it out on his surroundings. Like…he’s not upset that someone failed him; I think he’s upset because he feels like he’s failed himself. That he messed everything up again, even if whatever happened was of no fault of his own. And the only way he knows to cope with that is to destroy – destroy what’s around him and then…himself.”

She paused, as though trying to find more of the right words. Or maybe to give Matt a chance to interrupt. But Kylo had nothing.

“What I saw scared me but…FOR him, not OF him. I could…” She rubbed at her wrists beneath the deep blue fabric. “I saw myself in him, at that moment. Knew what he was thinking. ‘This pain is the only thing I deserve because all I do is mess everything up. The pain will never be enough to make up for what a failure I am.’”

Kylo noticed how tightly she was clutching at her wrists, how ravaged her hands still were from yesterday, and he reached for them again. Her long sleeves bunched up as he did, and he saw the remnants of scars on her wrists. Faint but glinting in the harsh light of her room. Evident enough.

“That’s what scared me,” she whispered. “That…that’s what he thinks. What he feels. Because I know it too well and…no one else should. …maybe that…triggered something in me yesterday…took me back to that time…convinced me I really am no one.”

“You’re not.”

“Matt, he said it himself,” she said. “That I’m no one.”

“…then he’s a fool,” he said. 

Because it was true. He was. 

***

“Ren, methinks your chambermaid is slipping,” Hux said in a meeting later that afternoon. “Walked into my rooms earlier today to find things still quite smudgy.”

“It’s not my problem that you leave smudges on everything you touch, Hux,” Kylo said, glaring at him. “She’s on medical leave today.”

“That excuse again?” Hux said, ignoring the smudge remark.

“She is,” Kylo said, a bit too insistent. He paused. “She collapsed yesterday, in my presence. I thought it best she take a day or two to recuperate.”

“Not like you to care,” Hux said.

“I don’t.” Again, too insistent. “It…wasn’t a normal fainting spell. It was something that required further medical attention.” Hux raised his eyebrows. “I was assured that it is not a regularly occurring incidence, and that she will be back to work day after tomorrow, at the very latest.”

“Well…we’ll have to give Phasma the heads-up,” Hux sighed. “She’s become used to leaving messes for that girl to clean up.” Kylo arched an eyebrow. “What? That’s what they’re for, isn’t it? To clean stuff we can’t be bothered with?”

Kylo looked away from him in disgust.

***

He returned to his room early several days later. She was present, flinching slightly as he entered.

“I’m just finishing up, sir,” she said without looking at him, polishing some decorative plate he’d managed not to smash in one of his rages. He said nothing. He watched her finish her work, observed her hands (healing, less pink, hiding the scars Matt knew of).

“Are you well?” he asked. Her hands paused, though her eyes didn’t leave the plate.

“Better, sir,” she said after a moment. “…thank you.” He entered his rooms, tossing his lightsaber on to a nearby chair as he made to pass her. “And you, sir?” He stopped.

“What?” She winced.

“Are you well, sir?” she echoed him, daring to look up into the mask. “You were…injured. I didn’t know—” 

“Better,” he said, halting her words. She nodded and looked back down, One last swipe of the cloth in her hand, and she was placing the plate back on the table in front of her. She walked over to her the rest of her supplies to gather them together. “Thank you.”

“…you’re welcome, sir,” she said, her eyes darting to him for a moment. She quickly gathered her things and made for the door, pausing and turning. “I’m not a doctor, sir, but…I have read various medical texts, and I have some basic knowledge of how to treat injuries. If you ever…require anything without wanting to go to medical, I can arrange to leave some supplies for you. To dress your own wounds.”

“That won’t be necessary,” he said.

“…understood, sir.” It wasn’t what she wanted to say, he knew. But she didn’t press the issue further.

“But thank you.”

“You’re welcome, sir.”

She was gone soon after.

***

He had intended a bombshell announcement – that Matt the Radar Technician was, in fact, Commander Kylo Ren. Intended it right when the undercover mission was proposed.

But Matt wouldn’t be too terribly missed by the staff, given his incompetence at being a simple radar technician. 

And no one would be shocked.

Most everyone else had guessed – or was at least ninety percent certain – that Matt and Kylo Ren were one and the same. How he’d managed to hide it from HER for so long was a miracle in itself. And if she found out…

He couldn’t do that to her. It was weak of him, but he couldn’t. She would never speak to him – Matt or Kylo – ever again.

Even if she wasn’t present for the bombshell announcement, word would spread. That Matt the Radar Technician never was.

So instead, he lied.

“I’m being transferred to another station. I received the orders late last night, to leave first thing this morning. I’m sorry.”

Short. To the point.

He left the message at her door before anyone else was awake. He returned to his rooms, singed all the blond hair off the wig, shredded the plastic orange vest and the shapeless jumpsuit, crushed the glasses in his hand until he felt shards slice through skin.

And that was the end of Matt the Radar Technician.

No one would miss him.


	2. Kylo Ren

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Life at Starkiller Base continues without Matt the Radar Technician, and no one misses him. UN-0101 still cleans Kylo's rooms, Hux is still kind of a prick (and probably really OOC), and Phasma is there, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oof. That chapter summary is almost as bad as the new chapter itself.
> 
> It was the last scene - the whole last scene - that kept me from getting this published earlier. And I'm still not happy with it. But this night has been "I STARTED WRITING AND CANNOT STOP"
> 
> There'll be only one more chapter after this. But kriff knows when I'll get that published, or any of the other "LOOK AT HOW KYLO REN TRASH I AM" fics I've got knocking around in my brain.
> 
> Also, there's a Spaceballs reference in this chapter somewhere. Lemme know if you find it. :3

Hours later, Kylo was regretting having the manner in which he destroyed Matt’s glasses. Regretting having not crushed them in his non-dominant hand.

Training, eating, shaking hands, holding things…all increasingly impossible as the day went on.

So after destroying a plethora of expensive equipment in a fit of frustration, he stormed into his room, hissing as he clenched and unclenched his fingers, as though the action would alleviate the pain instead of intensifying it.

“Sir?”

Kylo looked up. He’d forgotten he was unusually early and of COURSE she would be here cleaning his room.

“You.”

“…yes sir?”

He looked back down at his hand, flexed and unflexed his fingers again. The resulting grunt of pain was almost imperceptible.

“Did you need something, sir?” she asked, setting down the bottle of cleaner she’d been holding and walked closer to him. She paused after only a few steps, her eyes widening. “Sir…you’re…you’re bleeding.”

Kylo looked down. Sure enough – and how had he not noticed – blood was dripping from inside his glove on to the floor.

Huh.

She walked back to her station and rummaged through her supplies, a “hold on” quietly issuing from her among other murmurings he couldn’t quite hear. After a moment, she made a small triumphant sound and walked back over to him. Something was in her hand, something white, and Kylo was distracted by it long enough to almost – ALMOST – miss her grabbing at his injured hand. 

He quickly drew his hand back, another pained (weak) sound escaping him as he did. She froze and drew her hand back, looking down, looking…ashamed…but only for a moment. She seemed to take a deep breath, before looking back up at him.

“Sir…please,” she said. “You’re hurt. I have…well, it’s not exactly medical equipment, but…it’ll help. I would like to help you. But…” She lowered her eyes. “Only if you will allow me.”

The last time she’d touched him…Kylo. Without his permission. He remembered. He knew she was remembering.

His hand throbbed.

“Why should you care?” he asked.

“Because you’re hurt,” she said, as though it were obvious.

She’d held his hand. Matt’s hand. More than once. He knew her skin. 

Did she know his?

Another twitch of fingers. Another shot of pain thrumming through his arm.

Kylo stepped forward and stuck his (still gloved) hand out. She looked at it. Up at him. At the mask for several long moments. Studying him…as though trying to see through the mask…

She stepped closer to him, her arms raising slightly in the vicinity of his outstretched hand. They paused, and she looked up again.

Is this okay?

Unspoken in the air.

Kylo nodded. Once. Firm. 

Yes.

One of her hands rose from underneath his, reaching up to gently hold his wrist. The other reached for the fingertips of the glove, gingerly easing each one off, working her way down the glove as it slipped off his hand.

Some red streaks on the top of his hand, smudged and mottled from the fabric of the glove. Her grip on his wrist adjusted, gently turned his palm upward. He winced at the small gasp that escaped her, but also at the sight of just how bloody and how…ANGRY the cuts on his hand appeared.

Her hands were suddenly gone. The skin of his hand cooled in the wake of her, but also in the air of the room. He was faintly aware of water from the sink running, more distracted by the red pooling in his palm.

“Okay,” she said as she walked back, something in her hands. One of his washcloths – black, but Kylo noticed the peaks of white bubbles streaking along the fabric. Soap. “This…may sting.” Kylo inhaled as she took his hand from underneath, holding it in place as she lowered the cloth to his palm.

His whole hand twitched instinctively, from the newness of the damp heat of the cloth, the soap reaching the wounds. It did sting. He did not react aloud (his spine tensed, he couldn’t tell if she sensed that). The pressure she applied was firm, but gentle, dabbing away at the blood, the soap tinging with pink as she worked. Her hands worked around the cloth, around his hand, wiping away all traces of blood from every angle seen and unseen, always coming back to press against his palm, to ebb the flow. 

When she seemed to be satisfied, she let his hand go, whisking the washcloth away and walking briskly back to her supplies. His hand quickly grew cold, from the absence of the washcloth and the last remnants of water evaporating off his skin. She was back almost as soon as she’d left, lifting his hand from beneath with her own as she pressed another cloth to his palm. He watched her face as she worked (in an attempt to get his mind off of her touch, her softness, her gentleness)…and he noticed something familiar…familiar to Matt.

“You’ve been crying.”

Her hands stiffened around his.

“Sir?” She looked up at him.

“Your eyes are red,” he said as matter-of-fact as he could manage. Easy enough with the voice modulation from his mask. She looked back down, blinking, working the new drier softer cloth around his hand.

“It’s nothing, sir,” she said. “Nothing of your concern.”

“…tell me,” he said. Her hands paused around his again. “What is it?” She looked up at him again.

“With all due respect, sir, why should you care?” 

Bitter. Her tone. The taste of his own words thrown back into his mouth.

“Because you’re hurt.”

He had words to throw back, too.

The pressure increased sharply, shortly, on his wounds. He supposed he deserved it.

“It’s stupid,” she said. “Nothing worth crying over, sir.”

“I will be the judge of that.”

“You can’t decide when I do and do not cry, sir, or whether my reasons for doing so warrant tears,” she said, laser-focused on his hand now, intent on not looking up at him.

“Just tell me…please,” he said. 

Stupid. Uncharacteristic. If she noticed, she didn’t address it. She left the cloth lying on his open palm as she reached for a roll of thin white cloth, bandage-like but not a medical roll of bandages.

“A coworker…my friend was transferred,” she finally said as she began to wrap the cloth around his hand. “Just this morning.” Around and around the cloth went, different configurations and loops, weaving between his fingers. “No warning.” Tight enough to keep the wound clean, but loose enough that he would be able to bend his fingers. “He left a note. That was it.” Her hands hovered around his. “He didn’t say goodbye.”

Familiar tremble to her voice. Familiar duck to her head. A drop of warmth hitting a patch of skin that hadn’t been bandaged.

“He was my only friend here and I never got to tell him that and he didn’t even come say goodbye.”

Before Kylo could think, he was reaching up for her face, with his bandaged hand. He tilted her chin up with his fingertips, before they brushed over to her cheek, holding her face still. His thumb worked to sweep her tears away. His fingers remained against her skin, pressing down further but still gentle, relishing in her…

Her breath had hitched. Behind the welling tears, she stared at him. Confusion. Curiosity.

“He is a fool.” His thumb stroked her cheek again. “He is not worth your tears.”

True on both counts.

Kylo lowered his hand.

“…yes sir,” she said, blinking fast. 

The tears were gone. The confusion…the curiosity…remained.

“Are you injured anywhere else, sir?” she asked. “Your other hand, your shoulder, your face?” She reached up.

Instinctively, Kylo slapped her hand away with his uninjured one.

“NO!”

Loud. Harsh. Sharp as the sting of leather on flesh.

Her arm lowered. Her head followed suit.

“Yes sir,” she said quietly. “I’m sorry, sir. I didn’t mean to…”

“…I need to be alone.”

She nodded, turning to clean up and gather her supplies. Within moments, she was opening the door to his room. She made to leave…and then she paused.

“If you require anything else for your injuries, sir, please let me know. I hope you heal quickly.”

His door slid shut. 

Kylo flexed his hand. Her softness remained on his fingertips. Her tears wetted the bandage.

Foolish. 

Matt the Radar Technician was worth no one’s tears.

Kylo Ren wasn’t.

There was a distinct difference. 

***

No one was in the conference room when Kylo Ren, General Hux, and Captain Phasma walked in. Just a very tall ladder leaning against one of the walls, supposedly abandoned. 

"Maintenance must've forgotten it," Hux muttered, tapping the end of the ladder lightly with the tip of his toe. 

Hux must not have heard, but Kylo did. The tap must have caused enough of a tremor to reach the top of the ladder, because a soft gasp reached his ears. Just barely. He looked up. 

She was at the top. One of the highest rungs, her hands planted against the walls, a cloth clutched in one of them. Kylo didn't need to see her face - he felt the fear rolling off of her. 

“Damn good job they did in here, though," Hux said with a quick look around - too quick and not high enough. 

Before Kylo could speak, Hux kicked the ladder a bit harder. Casually. Possibly by mistake. But enough for the ladder to begin to wobble. 

Kylo and Phasma registered the sound of surprise and shock as the (Kylo felt, increasingly terrified) person above them grasped harder at the walls (no fixtures, nothing at which to grab), trying to right the ladder with her feet. 

The ladder toppled. Phasma called Hux's name. He looked up at the sound of a scream, watched the ladder falling, HER falling...

...and then she wasn't. 

A small yelp escaped her as she found herself hovering in midair. Held up by Kylo's hand, the use of the Force flowing up to her. The other hand, the other Force, caught the ladder before it hit the ground, lowered it slowly. Nothing so much as a clatter. 

Kylo moved his other hand up to her, turned her body as he lowered her towards him, inch by inch. She now faced him. Her fear still apparent, but...something else...he could sense...

Curiosity. 

It broke his concentration long enough. 

She fell the last few feet towards him, into his arms, her own instinctively reaching for his shoulders, his neck. The small gasp that left her lips, he didn't know if it was from the fall or from the tightness at which his arms wrapped around her waist, how close she was to him. 

She was so close. The closest yet. Were it not for his (damned) mask, he'd be able to feel her breath on his cheek (his lips), her fingers threading into his hair, see his eyes reflected in hers. He slowly (regretfully) lowered her to the floor, her toes reaching solid ground. Her eyes not leaving his mask, his hands still on her (damn the gloves, he wanted to feel the warmth of her seeping through her uniform, her pulse racing with adrenaline from the fall and maybe from him he hoped)

"Hux, please do try NOT to kill the staff with your carelessness," Phasma said drolly.

Kylo stepped away from her before she could blink (no he shouldn't hope for her thank you Phasma for breaking the spell). He clasped his hands behind his back, straightened his spine. 

"Terribly sorry," Hux said (too) casually, clapping her on the shoulder. "Didn't see you up there."

She looked down, picking up the cloth that had fallen to her feet when she'd grabbed for him. She said nothing. Didn't look back up at Kylo. 

"Smashing job you've done in here, though," Hux continued congenially, squeezing her shoulder and shaking her slightly. "Phasma, remind me to make sure this one gets a bonus."

"I'm not your secretary, Hux," Phasma said coldly. "And stop shaking the poor thing. Your little stunt shook her enough already."

"Yes, well..." With one last pat on her arm, Hux's hand was (finally) off her (stop it Kylo). "My apologies again."

"Thank you, sir," she said, nodding at the general, walking away from him and towards the ladder. 

"Ren, lucky thing you're more observant than our good general here," Phasma said. "Otherwise, we'd have a whole mess of paperwork to deal with."

"Yes, leave it to a Knight of Ren to play knight in shining armor, as it were," Hux said, with no small degree of mockery. "Looking for a true love's kiss to break the spell, a damsel in distress to make a man out of a monster?"

"Fairy tales, kicking ladders...how uncharacteristically childish of you, Hux," Kylo said, smirking at the result. "Your pout just further proves my point."

Behind Hux's shoulder, Kylo saw Phasma walking over to her. 

"The general is correct; you've done quite a satisfactory job in here," the captain said. "You are released from the rest of your duties for the day, should you need to recover from the shock."

"Thank you for your concern, Captain," she said with a smile as she bent to pick up the ladder. "I would like to carry out my duties for the day, if that's all right."

"If you insist," Phasma said with a nod. "Though if you should need to change your mind, my word still stands." She smiled wider at Phasma, then nodded. She then began to walk for the door. 

"Aren't you going to thank the nice commander for saving your life?" Hux called out, halting her in the doorway. She turned slowly, adjusting her grip on the ladder as she did. 

Perhaps she somehow knew where his eyes were underneath the mask. Because somehow, her eyes bore into his for a few moments before she spoke. 

"Thank you, commander."

He simply nodded in return. With her own nod, she turned and left. 

"Well, that was exciting," Hux said with a clap. "I'll need to go ask about that one for that bonus I promised her."

"UN-0101," Kylo said. Too quickly. Hux's eyebrows rose. 

"She cleans your rooms, Hux," Phasma said, tone once again cold. "And mine and Ren's."

"Oh," Hux said, the smallest bit of regret in his voice. "Suppose I should've recognized her handiwork...well, Ren, it's VERY good you were here, otherwise we would've lost the best janitor who's ever stepped foot in my quarters."

Kylo clenched his fist, just for a moment, then released it. 

"Nice to know you've got your priorities straight, Hux," he said with his usual sardonicism. "So long as your rooms are clean, is that it?"

"If you two are quite finished," Phasma snapped, "we have business to discuss."

"That we do, Phasma," Hux said cheerily. 

Kylo nodded, closed his eyes (he could still see hers) and opened them again. 

Deep breath. In. Out.

Nothing on his mind.

No one on his mind.

Mind as clear as it was going to get.

***

That evening, when he returned to his room, she was still there. She’d been fiddling with something resting on a table when he entered, but put it down and stood at his presence.

“Sir,” she greeted.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, not unkindly.

“I wanted to see how your hand was faring, sir,” she said, turning towards whatever was on the table. “I have proper medical bandages this time and disinfectant and…” She trailed off, looking back up at him. “I was afraid that some of the wounds had opened up again earlier today when you…”

She seemed unwilling to finish. He wasn’t about to complete the sentence, either. So instead, he ripped his glove off and thrust his hand in front of her.

“Do as you must,” he said. She looked from his hand, up at him, again, trying to read him through the mask (or succeeding, the way her eyes always seemed to pierce through him). Without speaking, she reached from below to hold his wrist steady again, unwinding the cloth from his hand, a bit dingy from the day’s wear, tinged with faint pink as the layers unraveled, to a growing red.

His hand looked worse than it felt, crusted with old blood. Still, a small displeased sound emitted from her throat, and she turned back to the table.

“This may sting…I’m sorry,” she said as she sprayed a fresh cloth with something with a pungent antiseptic odor he caught even through his mask. Holding his wrist once again, she dabbed at the dried blood, cleaning his skin, making the lacerations more prominent. She studied his hand, trying to assess if the cuts had reopened or not.

“I wanted to thank you again, sir,” she said, still staring at his palm. “For saving my life this morning.” The press of the cloth against his hand was soft, with a gentle abrasive feeling that only gauze could provide.

“Such a fall would not have killed you,” he said, dismissing the thanks.

“For saving my dignity, then, sir…well, as little dignity as a janitor has, sir,” she offered, putting the cloth aside. “Nobody else would have done what you did.”

“Nobody else can.”

“Then as the captain said, it’s very lucky you were there, sir,” she said, producing a roll of bandages. “And I’m very grateful to you, sir.”

“There’s no need,” he said.

“Will you just accept the gratitude?” she said, looking up from her work, her grip tightening on his hand and his wrist. There was a glimmer in her eyes she’d reserved before only for…

…but then she remembered herself and focused again on his hand. “…sir.” She began to wind the bandage around his hand. “I’m sorry, sir, I forgot myself…you reminded me of…” 

…of him? Of Matt?

She shook her head.

“Never mind, sir. I’m sorry. I’m…not rambling, but…never mind.” She shook her head again, becoming intent on the bandage she wound around his hand. 

A silence in the room, save for the rustling of bandage as she wrapped and wove the roll.

“You’re not a monster, sir.”

Kylo looked at her as the non sequitur hung in the air.

“What?”

“The general…said something,” she said as she finished wrapping the bandage around his hand and reached for a piece of medical tape to secure it. “Something about...you being a monster that used to be a man and…” Her cheeks were pink once again. “…needing a true love’s kiss to break a spell.” Her work on his hand was done, but her hands lingered around it, holding it (if anything) tighter. “I know he was joking, but…I hope you didn’t take offense at what he said, sir.”

Kylo said nothing. He didn’t know what to say (she always seemed to do this to him).

“Anyway, that just…bothered me all day and…I just…I needed to say it.” Her eyes met his mask. “You’re not a monster.”

Something in his heart clenched, and he hated that he didn’t hate it. But he had to do something about it.

“Were you hoping I was?” he said, as coldly as he could manage. “Hoping for a true love’s kiss, even if it had to come from a monster?” She looked down again.

“No, sir. Not really my thing.”

“Monsters?”

“True love, sir.” She let his hand go. “Kiss or otherwise.” She smiled at him, one that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Do you require anything else of me, sir?”

He shook his head. “You may go.”

“Thank you, sir.”

He walked back to where he’d left his glove, and he put it back on (never mind that he’d be taking it off as soon as she left). The only sound in the room was the rattle and clatter of supplies as she gathered everything into her arms and made for the door. It slid open. 

Before she left, she turned back around.

“Good night, sir.”

The door closed behind her, before he had a chance to say anything (as if he could.)

Kylo walked over to the only mirror (often replaced) in his quarters. He stared at the forboding figure in the reflection. 

She didn’t see a monster.

The glove came off again. Then the other. The hood, the cape, the mask.

Kylo studied this figure in the mirror.

He wasn’t so sure, mask or not.

***

He wanted to talk to her. As Matt. At least one more time.

There was no feasible way to bring Matt back, physically. His disguise was long gone, and getting, quote, “one of the worst radar technicians Starkiller Base had ever seen” back in the First Order’s good graces was the longest of long shots.

That said, there were other means.

It was easy enough, to get ahold of the communication devices; nothing was ever really thrown away on the base, one just had to know where to look. They were primitive and laughable to look at. But they functioned, which was the important thing.

Then it was a matter of leaving it at her door, in a sealed envelope, as much like a package as he could believably manage. With a letter stating what time to call the number listed.

Then that night. Securing his doors to ensure absolutely nobody would enter. Cross-legged on his bed, wracking his brain to remember Matt’s mannerisms and posture (for verisimilitude – as though they were meeting again in person). In his pajamas, to feel more casual. Glancing once more at the time…waiting another minute…another…three minutes…

…perhaps she wouldn’t…perhaps she feared it was some sort of threat or joke—

‘ring’

The device lit up as the tinny sound emitted from it.

Kylo’s heart was suddenly in his throat.

It rang again.

He reached for the device. Halfway through the third ring, he pressed a button and lifted the device to his ear.

“Hello?”

No response, though he swore he could hear the faintest of gasps. He wondered what her full reaction was.

“Hello?” he asked again, trying to sound suitably puzzled…at first. 

Matt the Radar Technician had arranged this, after all. 

“Is…no one there?” 

A sound. Some mixture of a laugh and a gasp and a sob. He couldn’t help but smile.

“Yes,” she finally spoke. “No one’s here.” Another tearful giggle. He hoped against hope she was smiling. “Matt…”

“Yes?”

“How…?”

“How am I? I’m all right.” He couldn’t resist.

“No, you…how did you…?” Before he could even try to finagle an answer to that one, she spoke again. “You left.”

“…yes, I did.” Kylo braced himself for a tirade. It was what he deserved.

“You left without saying goodbye. In person, anyway, not through…a letter.”

“It was…sudden,” he said lamely. “I said as much in my letter. There wasn’t time.”

He waited for more. He deserved more, so much more.

“…it hurt, Matt.”

It wasn’t a lot more. But it was enough.

“Is…this making up for it?” he asked.

“…so long as I get a proper goodbye,” she said. “Not now, of course…but at the end. Whenever that is. …hold on.” A moment of silence on her end. “Sorry, I had to take another look at this…thing I’m using to talk to you, I can only assume you have one too, I mean…Matt…where did you dig these up?”

“Well…when you’re a radar technician, you find things.” That sounded plausible, he hoped. From her little laugh, it seemed he was successful.

“So…tell me. What’s your new ship like?” she asked.

“…nothing to tell, really.” It was the truth, technically. “Besides, I…sort of…don’t deserve to talk about myself, not after what I did to you.”

“That’s not true, Matt,” she said. “…but if you really want, I can update you on the base, what little I can.”

And so she talked. About janitor work, some gossip that was often exchanged in her department, odds and ends. Kylo listened, knew some of what she was saying, recognized some of the people she described, added comments when he felt necessary.

Then they talked. Whatever new topic the conversation led to, they’d pick it up, try to make up for so much time. Kylo did his best to make her laugh, having missed the sound of it so much. His face hurt from smiling.

In the…minutes, hours, however long it was…they’d been talking, one topic hadn’t been broached. He could tell she was deliberately avoiding it.

So, at Matt was still Kylo Ren’s biggest fan, it was up to Kylo to ask about Kylo.

“So…how are things with your boss?” he asked with as much casualness as he could muster.

“I knew you would…” she sighed, almost fondly, it seemed. “He’s…Kylo.”

“What?” 

Kylo almost clapped a hand over his mouth. He’d answered as though she was addressing Kylo…not Matt.

“I mean, Kylo Ren is Kylo Ren; he’s moody and often unpredictable.”

She hadn’t noticed. 

“Well…are there any interesting…developments or…incidents that occurred?” he asked.

“Have I walked in on him shirtless, yet, do you mean?” she teased. Kylo winced; she was never going to let go of that suggestion. “No, I have not. Not even maskless.”

“Okay.”

“I’ve seen him without gloves on, though.”

“Really?”

“Yes, scandalous, isn’t it?” she scoffed. “No, but…he cut his hand open somehow, I offered to help, and…he…surprisingly, accepted the offer.”

“So…just the once, then? Patching him up?”

“No, again, after…” There was a pause. Kylo could imagine her fidgeting, or pushing her hair back with her free hand. “He…oh, you’re never gonna get over this…he…sorta saved my life.”

“Really?” He said this “really” with as much sly knowingness as he could muster.

“Shut up, it was nothing big,” she said, and oh, he could sense the blush. “I was on a ladder, it was falling over, he…caught me. In midair. Like, without actually catching me, at first, he used…oh, what is it called?”

“The Force,” Kylo immediately provided.

“Yes, you WOULD know that…but yes, that.”

“What did that feel like?”

“Like…hands, but not. Hard to describe. And then once I was lower, I was ACTUALLY in his arms and…Matt, it was weird. He held me for...well, longer than he needed to.”

“Did he make you uncomfortable?”

“No, not really…it’s just weird. Like, from him, it’s weird. He gives off this air of being so aloof and uncaring and…he held me so close, we were SO close when he caught me…like, thank all the stars in all the galaxies for that mask, otherwise, yes, THEN, the whole thing would’ve been very uncomfortable.”

“Why, because you would’ve been inches away from his awesome face?” Kylo didn’t think his face was awesome is the slightest…but it was something Matt would’ve said. And it was fun to tease her. (And also he maybe secretly hoped that she hoped his face was awesome.)

“…I wonder what I look like to him,” was what she said instead of getting flustered.

“…huh?”

“Like…I wonder how he sees the world through that mask,” she explained. “Like if it’s all…grainy or staticy or everything’s in black-and-white. Or if the technology in his mask is advanced enough that what he sees through it is…what he sees without it. Like…am I a series of numbers and lines in his eyes, or am I a person?” 

A pause. 

“…am I pretty?”

Another pause.

“…wow. Sorry. I have NO idea where the hell THAT came from.”

“…will it help if I said I think you’re pretty, or will that just make things more awkward?”

It was (undoubtedly) awkward, it was Matt-like, and it was the truth.

“You’re sweet, Matt.” Her tone suggested she didn’t believe him, but that she appreciated the compliment all the same.

“Well…as much as I admire Kylo Ren, if he doesn’t look at you and think that you’re pretty, then he’s an idiot.”

“Even if he just sees me as numbers and lines?”

“The prettiest numbers and lines.”

“Shut up.” She was laughing too hard for the “shut up” to be harsh, and he could feel the tense awkwardness dissipating somewhat.

“I’ve…oh, I’m so gonna regret telling you this…” Kylo sat a bit straighter. “I’ve…had dreams about him…lately.” 

She was probably covering her face at the admission. Kylo clutched the communication device tighter, so as not to drop it.

“…um…what kind of dreams?” he asked, almost choking on the words, because…he wasn’t sure what he (hoped he) wanted to hear.

“Not, not those kinds of dreams, no,” she said, almost too rushed. “I mean…okay, that sounds mean of me, but…I’ve always ALWAYS hated sex dreams. Always. About anyone. I mean, I’ve told you before, it’s not something that interests me, it honestly kind of repulses me, I mean…other people like it, hey, great for them, it’s…just…no. Not for me.”

He understood that. To a point. And he respected her. …not enough to NOT dream about her in the way that repulsed her, because oh, he had…he’d wake up in a cold sweat, trying to forget what (delicious wonderful intoxicating) scenes his mind had concocted involving her…

“But I have dreamed about him.” Kylo shook his head, her voice snapping him out of a reverie he didn’t want to stumble upon (not at this time, anyway). “It’s…weird. Like, I’m back to falling off the ladder, and he’ll catch me…and he never lets go. He just…holds me closer…to him…like, I can almost hear his heartbeat when I wake up because in my dreams, my head is resting against his chest and I can hear it…”

“Oh.” Because what else could he say to that.

“It’s…nice. Really nice.”

“That’s good.”

“But it’s also confusing as hell because then I just feel so awkward when I’m cleaning his rooms later, and I’m scared I’ll run into him and…he’ll KNOW somehow that I’ve been dreaming about him.”

“I’m sure he doesn’t.” Probably because he hadn’t. Not a clue. It would’ve been easy enough to dig into her mind and see what she thought of him. It was easy enough to do with any employee on the base. But…he wouldn’t. Not to her. “So…that’s it? He holds you?”

“It’s…not the only one…” If she’d sounded awkward about telling Matt about the first dream, it was nothing compared to now. “Like…I don’t even have a lead-up for this one, and I don’t remember anything else about the dream, I just know that I’m in a room with him, and he takes his mask off, and…”

A long, almost torturous pause.

“And?” he asked.

“…it’s you.”

“…what?”

“Kylo takes his mask off and he has your face, Matt. Like…you were him all along.”

Oh.

…really, that was the only thing in his mind. Oh.

Oh.

“I have…NO idea why, and I don’t know how I’m supposed to interpret that and oh I SHOULD NOT be telling you this because it’s just gonna make things awful between us but…I’m telling you because I need to talk to someone about it and I don’t have anyone else here.”

Still…just…oh.

“You were my only friend here, Matt, and I miss you every day and Kylo acts so weird and gets so close sometimes that maybe that’s it, maybe I just wish he was you or you were him or something because I’m afraid I’m gonna start feeling things for him that I feel for…”

Oh.

OH.

“And I hate feeling like this. About him or you or anyone, I’ve always hated it because it always just ends in hurt and…I mean, what’s the point, anyway? He’s a commander, and I’m…I’m no one. I’m a no one.”

Oh…

“You’re not,” he said, and the sincerity in his voice was enough to almost make him cry. “You’re not a no one. Not to me. And not to him.”

“You don’t know that, Matt,” she said.

“I do.” And he did, he really did. “You’ve never been no one. You are so much more than no one. I mean…he saved your life. He allowed you to help him. He sees you. He…he knows. Would he have reached out if he didn’t?”

Nothing. For a long time. 

“Even if he did…if he knew what I was…what I am…I mean…how could he or…anyone love someone who can’t give them all that?”

“That…what?”

“Intimacy. Like…so many people equate sex with love. They think ‘No way. Asexual? That’s not a thing. How can anyone live their whole life without that love? Without physical contact? Without being held? Being kissed?’”

“He doesn’t think that.”

“How do you know? You can’t read his mind.”

“Anyone who thinks that way – that sex and love are one and the same - is a fool,” Kylo snapped. “And Kylo Ren is not a fool.”

“But you’ve said before that he is,” she snapped back. “Because he thinks I’m a no one.”

“He’s a fool if he THINKS you’re a no one, that’s what I’d said.” He paused. “…maybe he thinks himself a fool for ever thinking he could be with you.”

“…because I’m asexual? Because I’m BROKEN?” 

“You are not broken.”

“But why else would he think himself a fool for being with me?”

“Because he doesn’t deserve you.” His vision blurred. “Because he looks back on every moment he’s shared with you…every shred of kindness and concern you’ve shown him…and he wonders how someone as broken as him came to deserve having someone as…BEAUTIFUL as you in his life.”

“…Matt…I’m not…”

“You are.” His voice shook as he spoke. “You’re…so beautiful. Everything you do, everything you are, every single facet of you…” He blinked. The blurriness was gone, tracing lines down his cheeks. “I don’t deserve you.”

“…Matt…you’re not making any sense.”

Matt.

Right.

Not Kylo.

“Why do you think Kylo Ren would feel like he’s the broken one?” she asked. “I mean…you’re his biggest fan…you think he’s the best.”

Kylo swallowed.

“He’s not.” Less an admission from a fanboy, more a statement he’s long considered to be the truth. “Looking at him through your eyes…what you’ve told me…he…he’s like you said, moody and often unpredictable. Even back all those weeks ago, when you said you saw yourself in him, it’s…it’s TRUE. He destroys all in sight when things don’t go right from him because he feels like such a fucking failure. He instills more pain on himself because that’s all he deserves. He’s a danger to himself, a danger to others, he’s a monster…he’s a fucking joke. ‘Oh, that crazy Kylo…’”

For a moment, in that last statement, he couldn’t tell if the strangled sound escaping his throat was a laugh or a sob.

Because it was all true. It was all fucking true.

He was such a fucking joke.

He wanted to continue the diatribe of (self) loathing when he hears a quiet static-y cry. 

Hers.

“Matt, I…I wish I were there right now. I…I’m sorry.”

She was…what?

“Sorry? For what?”

“I’ve…I’ve broken your hero’s pedestal.”

“It was already broken. He was. You just…opened my eyes to it.”

“He’s still…Matt, you don’t KNOW most of it. Neither of us do. And…no one is perfect. It’s okay to still…be his fan.”

“But he’s—” 

“Broken. Maybe.” He imagined, in the small pause, that she smiled, as though to reassure him. “But he’s strong.”

“How? Because he knows the Force?”

“Because even if he does believe he’s broken, he’s still here.” Kylo felt all breath leave him. “He’s still living.”

Kylo closed his eyes, and behind his lids, he once again saw the scars on her wrists.

“…and also because he’s shredded.”

“WHAT?” His eyes flung open with the half-barked, half-laughed interjection.

“Well, you said it yourself, he apparently has an eight-pack, therefore, he is strong physically.” He could hear her own laughter, and she had never sounded so beautiful.

“Oh…I half-regret saying that to you…”

“More than ‘technicianing radar’?”

He’d walked right into that one, he thought as the air filled with much needed, blessedly cathartic laughter. Said laughter hung in the air for a time after, though that air was still tinged with heaviness.

“So…” she finally said. “…still a Kylo Ren fan?”

He wanted to tell her…he ached with wanting to tell her…

“He’s not a monster, Matt.” She’d taken his silence for hesitation. “I…that’s the second time I’ve heard as much recently, and…he’s not.”

“Are you telling me, or trying to convince yourself?” Kylo asked sardonically.

“Matt.” Scolding in her tone.

“He wears a mask.”

“So you think he’s a monster because he could take that mask of and he might not look like you or me?”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“Oh, so he could have some…deformity or scar or something? Scars do not make someone a monster.”

In his mind, a brief flash of her rubbing her wrists.

“No.”

“Then…what, the mask is a symbol?”

“I never said he was a monster; I said he thinks he is.”

“You also said he thinks he’s broken, and you don’t know that, either.”

A pause.

“…you’re not broken.”

It was a desperate attempt to change the subject, but Kylo practically heard her take the bait.

“…Matt, we’ve already—”

“Not because you’re asexual…I mean, yes, but…” Kylo ran a hand through his hair, and leaned forward, as though she was in front of him, as though he could reach out for her hands and clasp one between his own.

“I saw your scars,” he began. “That day I came to see you after your panic attack. I know…your wrists…I just…you’re here. You’re…strong. You’re still living. And…I’m so grateful you are. That…that I got to meet you.”

If he were there, if he weren’t such a coward, and if he was sure it wouldn’t make her uncomfortable, that was the moment where he’d lean down, push up the sleeves of her pajamas, and press his lips to one wrist, then the other. He’d ached for her skin before (in much less chaste ways, usually in cold sweats waking up from dreams where he’d explored the expanse of her). But he ached for this moment. To show her. Prove to her…

“I’m grateful for you, too,” she said. “I…” She sighed, sounding as though she wanted to cry all over again. “I want you here. Matt…can’t you come visit?”

Kylo closed his eyes.

“It’s not that easy.”

“…I know.”

A silence. Heavy, but not uncomfortable. Not…crushing.

“Matt, I said…earlier, something about…feelings and you, maybe for him, but…I’m sorry if that made you feel awkward or…anything. If it’s any consolation…maybe not…but even if you did…like…I’d probably push you away and be all ‘Ha, just kidding, I don’t actually feel that way’ because I’m too afraid of having those feelings returned or disbelieving that anyone could like someone who’s ace or—”

“Don’t be afraid.”

It was out of his mouth before he could stop it. But Kylo could help it no longer. He closed his eyes. Admitted (for the first time aloud) to her (to himself):

“I feel it, too.”

He would allow himself this weakness, he thought. This one admission.

It was strange. He always assumed these sort of moments, these confessions and reciprocations, were supposed to be the happiest. Instead, he felt as though he’d just somehow broken her heart.

“…so what happens now?” she asked.

She sounded the way he felt.

“…forget about me,” he finally said. With every word, every breath, every heartbeat, he hated himself that much more. “It’s for the best. The odds of our paths crossing again are next to none.” True and false in the worst way.

“Never tell me the odds.” He heard a smile in her voice that he didn’t believe for a second.

“Just…remember you’re not broken. You’re not a no one. You’re…”

Kylo stopped…and laughed. He started laughing and couldn’t stop.

“Matt, what is it?”

“I don’t deserve you.” He still laughed he said it. “I am the worst friend…I have never said your name. I don’t even know it. I’ve never asked what it was. I’m no better than those who call you a no one.”

It was true. He’d NEVER asked for her name. She’d always been UN-0101. Never a no one, but…just a number. 

It wasn’t funny. At all. But he couldn’t stop laughing. 

It was only when he heard something from her end, just barely, that his manic laughter dissipated.

“I’m so sorry…” For his fit and missing what she said.

“My name,” she said, before she repeated what she’d uttered moments ago. Quiet. Breathless.

It took his own breath.

He repeated her name. A question.

She repeated her name. An answer. A confirmation.

He said it again. Hushed, as though he’d been told the most treasured of secrets.

She whispered his “name” back to him. Slightly teasing. Affectionate. Sad.

The names hung in the air with so much left unspoken. That would remain unspoken. Because he knew…and he knew that she knew…there was no happy ending for this.

He said her name one final time, and one more word:

“Goodbye.”

He waited.

“…goodbye, Matt.”

With those two words, Kylo allowed himself to press a button. Close the communication device. He set it down, flexing and unflexing his fingers, in a semi-permanent curl around what was now on his bed.

He stood up, staring at nothing, allowing his vision to unfocus. Allowed the air in the room to clear.

When it had, he picked up the device and slammed it against the wall over and over and over until the broken bits littered his floor and embedded his hand like shrapnel.

He would forget her. Because he was not who she deserved or needed. 

Matt the Radar Technician was dead, once again. And he was Kylo Ren, Commander of the First Order.

And Kylo Ren was friends with no one. 

He cared for no one.

He loved no one.

***

After a night of no sleep, and hours of meditation that left his mind blissfully clear and his body void of emotion, Kylo Ren received news. Orders.

A village on the planet of Jakku. Movement of the Resistance.

Kylo Ren pulled the mask on, adjusted the cuffs of his gloves, and ignored the reopening wounds in the palm of his hand.

He took a deep breath through his nose, clearing his mind once more. Completely.

He felt hollow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback welcome and appreciated.


	3. UN-0101

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From no one's point of view.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since it's still Star Wars Day for me (May the Fourth be with you), and we're nearing Revenge of the Fifth...time to wrap this up.
> 
> The song quoted in the first bit of the chapter is "This is Gospel" by Panic! at the Disco. Which has way too many lines to can tie back to Kylo and No One.
> 
> I tend to plan some stories with the last line written first. This was one of those stories.
> 
> Thank you to everyone who read and left comments. You're wonderful. :)

“If you love me, let me go…”

She’d been singing the song in snippets to herself as she cleaned. Not hard to do after blasting it for hours in the privacy of her room following a certain conversation with a certain radar technician/”insufferable bastard”.

But really, she was doing her best not to think about him. Stupid, stupid him. With his stupid blond hair and stupid big glasses and stupid nose and stupid eyes and…really, his whole stupid face. His stupid, weirdly pretty face.

His stupid face that she was never going to see again. And his stupid voice that she was never going to hear again.

“‘Cause these words are knives and often leave scars…”

That conversation never left her mind, no matter how much she tried to push it away. Everything that had been said. Everything left unsaid. Everything implied.

She wasn’t sure if that made it all better or worse. Having that whole conversation, knowing their paths would never cross again. Maybe it would’ve been better to have never heard his voice again. For him to have just…gone the way he did. Even if that had felt like reopening old wounds and faltering to stitch them back together.

“And truth be told, I never was yours…”

When she cleaned General Hux’s rooms, she never saw him. When she cleaned Captain Phasma’s rooms, she never saw her. When she cleaned Kylo Ren’s rooms…

…she didn’t know if she wanted to see him anymore.

So far, following her last conversation with Matt, she hadn’t.

It was a relief. And still a slight disappointment.

After all their encounters, the way he’d allowed her to help him, when he’d caught her, held her too close for too long…

She was not one for love. He probably wasn’t either. Foolish to keep dreaming of something that could have been.

So she cleaned. She would put all her effort into cleaning so she was too tired to think of anything – or anyone – else.

“The fear of falling apart…”

***

And for a few days, that plan worked. Until she was cleaning up her own (mess of a) room and found that blasted communication device.

Momentary ripping open of stitches.

But nothing that couldn’t be fixed with a visit to the nearest garbage compactor. And garbage compactors were something she visited daily, per her routine.

Though sight of the man himself was not to be had, Kylo Ren had thrown another spectacular tantrum of which she’d had to pick up the remnants. Broken glass and wires and equipment. It was sometimes a wonder that she had the cart space for it all, but she made it all fit.

And so, nearing the end of her shift – and all other shifts - she turned a number of corners, down this hall, turn right at another, and she found herself in front of the garbage compactor. She keyed in the code, as she did every day, and tipped her cart to dump the detritus down the chute, as she did every day.

That said, it wasn’t every day that she paused mid-tip at the sound of something echoing through the chute.

Not just something. Someone.

“Help! Someone…of here!”

She set her cart down. She looked down each direction of the hallway. Empty. With a sigh of relief, she bent down towards the chute

“Um…hello?” she called.

“Is someone there?” The voice was faint, female, and somehow familiar.

“Yes, this is—”

“I don’t care who, can you get me out of here?!”

“Um—yes! Yes, I think I can, hold on—”

She was vaguely aware of the female voice shouting something else at her as she bent back up towards the keypad. In her training, she’d been given every single code regarding the trash compactors and been forced to memorize every one. Even if they were codes she’d never use in her life.

Codes such as the ones to produce a ladder leading from the top of the chute down to the garbage compactor. In case of some emergency if one had been foolish enough to dump something they shouldn’t have.

“Okay, there should be a ladder now!” she called into the chute. “Do you see it?”

“No…wait, yes!” Well, at least she hadn’t accidentally entered the code to activate the garbage mashers. So that was good.

“Okay, good…do you need me to come down to you?” she asked. “Are you hurt at all, do you need hel--?”

Before she could even finish her question, a head was popping up from the garbage chute.

“Got it. Thank you.”

“Yes…of course, sorry,” she said, realizing her cart was in the way and rolling it quickly to the side so the woman – short, blonde hair, icy blue eyes, stern set mouth – could more easily get out.

“Really, though…thank you,” the woman said. “That was…quite the inconvenience.” Something in her demeanor gave her the hint that details were not to be asked for. But the woman’s eyes softened for a split second. “May I have your identification, so I know whom to thank properly? 

“Yes, of course. UN-0101.”

The woman’s eyes widened for the slightest moment.

“You clean my rooms.”

She was confused. Then she noticed the increasingly familiar armor the woman was wearing. And just now noticed the helmet in the woman’s hand.

“Captain Phasma!”

She stood as straight and stiff as she could, wondering if she should salute.

“I’m sorry.”

“Did you throw me into the trash compactor?” Phasma asked her.

“No, Captain.”

“Then why are you apologizing to me?”

“…it’s a habit, Captain.”

“Yes, well…” Phasma gave her a wry little smile. “Thank you. For this and for…my rooms. Your skills are more than adequate.”

“…thank you, Captain.”

Another wry smile. 

“Are you sure you’re okay, you’re not injured or anything from…because I have some basic medical supplies in my room I can—”

“I appreciate the offer,” Phasma interrupted, “but I’m fine. Again, thank you. You’ve been quite a help tonight.”

“With all due respect, Captain, I’m no one,” she said. “I was just doing my job and…happened to find you.”

“Yes, well…lucky you did. I’m grateful to you.”

Another smile. Less wry, more sincere.

“Thank you, Captain.”

Then Phasma put her helmet on top of her head. Simply from her resulting mannerisms, she could tell Phasma was exasperated with something.

“No, Hux, sorry,” Phasma said, not sounding sorry in the slightest. “I was momentarily otherwise occupied and my helmet was off, what’s so bloody important?”

She decided it was best to leave the Captain to her duties. She keyed in the code to retract the ladder, dumped the contents of her cart down the chute – the communication device among them - and rolled it away.

She thought she felt some sort of tremble through the floor. Probably her imagination.

***

Later that night, she was getting ready to go to bed when she heard her door slide open.

“UN-0101!”

She recognized that voice. From moments earlier that night. She turned to see Captain Phasma (sans helmet). And behind her, General Hux.

“Captain…General…I’m sorry if your rooms weren’t cleaned to your satisfaction and I promise to do better tomorrow.”

“Not what this is about, UN-0101, you need to come with us,” Phasma said sternly. It was now she noticed the urgency in Phasma’s expression and even a bit in Hux’s demeanor.

“What IS this about, Phasma?” Hux scoffed. “What does the cleaning crew have to do with Ren?”

“UN-0101, you said you had medical supplies, correct?” Phasma asked, pointedly ignoring Hux.

“Yes, Captain, but I don’t see—”

“You know, you should be thanking us for being here, because in case you haven’t notice, Starkiller Base is under attack,” Hux snapped.

“…I hadn’t noticed, General.” In all honesty, she hadn’t. Though maybe that would explain the tremor she’d felt earlier.

“Just what HAVE you been doing, UN-0101?”

“Cleaning, General. With all due respect, that’s my job.”

She was less afraid of what his reaction would be towards her own flippancy and more wondering why they were here. So she turned to Phasma for answers.

“Captain, I do have a very basic set of…rudimentary medical supplies, but I don’t see what that has to do with…is Commander Ren in trouble?”

“Yes, and he’s asking for you, so grab your gear and follow us,” Phasma said, turning towards the door. “We don’t have much time before we go down with the base.”

“What do you mean, he asked for her?” Hux asked Phasma. “He said no such thing, the man’s delirious, he didn’t ask for anyone.”

“Wrong, Hux,” Phasma said, her eyes on her rather than on Hux. “He specifically asked for no one.”

Her heart stopped. The ground shook.

“Sound familiar, UN-0101?”

She couldn’t speak. She just turned and grabbed her small kit from underneath her bed and slipped on a pair of shoes.

“How can I help?”

***

“TM-0177 reported some time ago on a member of janitorial staff who’d saved him from choking to death,” Phasma explained to Hux as they walked-almost-ran to where a small ship was waiting for them. She simply followed and listened. “ZK-0482 verified his reports, and witnessed it as well. Said staff member was often jokingly described as a ‘no one’.”

“…because her identification is UN-0101, and you can sort of stretch it out to sound like ‘no one’?” Hux said as they boarded the ship. The two glanced back at her. She nodded.

“Well…with all due respect, comparatively, I am sort of a no one to the First Order.”

“Every member of the First Order has importance,” Hux said with avid fierceness…probably more out of passion to the First Order than trying to make her feel better. “And no offense, but that line of logic is fucking moronic.”

“Hux,” Phasma scolded.

“Well, it is!”

“I’m not disagreeing with you, but that’s not important, right now.” Phasma inclined her head towards her. “She is. She can help him.”

“Help…Commander Ren?” she asked.

“There was…an altercation of sorts,” Hux said. “No one really knows what happened, we just found him in the snow, thoroughly beaten by his opponent.” 

Hux stopped at a door and pressed a button to open it. She followed Hux and Phasma in, and was able to make out a figure clad in black lying on a medical bed.

“How badly is he hurt?” she asked.

“He’s lost blood. Quite a lot. We’ve applied pressure to staunch the flow, but it’ll require more than that to stop it all together.”

She slowly, quietly approached the figure. The clothes, she recognized. His. Her commander. Kylo.

…no helmet. No mask. No good look at his face yet, but there was a face. And hair. Lots of dark hair. 

She walked closer towards the face of her commander. The hair. Long, wavy, brown. Matted with sweat, cold, melted snow. The face…

“Oh my...no…NO.”

She thought she was going to be sick.

It wasn’t right away. Shock more at the scar, ugly and red, marring his features which she was trying to make out.

An aristocratic nose, Full lips. The jawline…his ears…the shape of his eyes…his brow…

She blinked, and for a moment, saw him with blond hair and glasses.

No.

She clutched for something to hold on to, to sit down.

It wasn’t. It WASN’T. It COULDN’T be.

It was.

“…I don’t know if I can do this.” Said to herself more than to Phasma and Hux. 

“You’re the best we have. The only we have. Look.” Hux gestured towards a nearby window. She looked out of it to see…

“…is that the Base?”

“What is left of it.”

Fire. Inferno. And they were speeding away from it as quickly as they could, jumping into hyperspace.

“I’m not medical, I don’t even have bacta, I have NO formal training—”

“And we don’t have anyone else on here who can help him,” Phasma interrupted. “He would only have you.”

“How do you know that?” she asked. “What if the General was right and he was just…muttering nonsense in his delirium?”

“We won’t know until he awakes.”

“And what if he doesn’t? What if I can’t save him?”

The silence was thick. She could breathe the tension, it was so thick. She couldn’t take her eyes off of…Kylo…Matt…both in one…

“His wounds aren’t THAT serious,” Hux scoffed. “He’s just being overdramatic.”

She didn’t believe Hux for a second, but she was grateful to him for appeasing her. Even if that wasn’t his intent.

“Okay,” she finally said, setting her kit down and pulling out what few things she had. Isopropyl alcohol. Rolls of bandages. Needle and thread. Scissors. From the VERY brief descriptor of his wounds, these seemed the most necessary.

He was Kylo Ren, Commander of the First Order. He was Matt the Radar Technician.

He was her commander. He was her radar technician.

And she WOULD save him.

“We’ll leave you to it,” Phasma said. “Should you require anything else, please call us. We’ll have access to bacta and proper medical facilities once we reach our destination, but he does need your help now. If we wait…”

“Thank you, Captain…thank you, General,” she said.

She heard the door shut as she picked up the scissors. Some bits of fabric had been torn through at his shoulder and along his leg, but it was the wound at his side that was most worrying. The black fabric was heavy and damp. She cut along his shirt to expose the wound.

“Oh fuck…”

How was he able to fight with a wound like this? How was he already not dead simply from RECEIVING the blast that caused it?

“OH fuck oh fuck oh fuck…”

She picked up sheets of gauze to dab away at the worst of it so she could examine the wound in full.

It would need to be sewn shut. But first…

She reached for the bottle of isopropyl alcohol and poured a good amount onto a stack of gauze.

“This is not going to be fun…” Was she saying it to herself or to Kylo? She looked up towards his head, for a brief moment. “I’m sorry.”

She though she heard a slight moan of response, before bracing herself and pressing the alcohol-soaked gauze to the angry wound.

The scream cut through the room, through her heart and soul, as she held the gauze tight against his thrashing body.

“I know, I know, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she said through gritted teeth and blurry eyes, holding him as still as she could with her free hand as he arched and writhed in pain. “I have to, I have to, I’m so sorry…”

The feverish screams died with the sting of the alcohol. 

“UN-0101, are you all right?”

She hadn’t even noticed Phasma and Hux had entered.

“We heard screaming,” Hux said.

“…he needs stitches,” she said, threading the needle and cutting the thread to the right length. “I…I won’t be able to keep him still. I don’t know if…”

“We’ve got it,” Phasma said, standing on one side of Kylo, Hux on the other.

“Thank you,” she said.

“A little barbaric, don’t you think?” Hux said as she knotted the thread.

“He’ll bleed to death if I don’t,” she snapped, her mind frayed and taut and frazzled and just trying to hold it together until it was over, he was healed, and she could be in private and cry and scream and wonder why.

“Hux, just hold him down,” Phasma said. As they held him still, she took an extra roll of bandages and reach for Kylo’s face. He’d need something to bite down on. She reached up.

“It’s okay,” she whispered. Coaxed. She placed one hand under his chin and gently tried to force his mouth open. “It’ll be over soon, I promise.” The tension in his face let up long enough for the roll of bandages to tuck between his teeth. She stroked his cheek surreptitiously with her thumb. Pale. Clammy. Cold.

Returning to her seat at his side, she poised the needle, She placed a hand on his side and pushed the needle in to make the first stitch. Immediate arching of his back, a cry muffled by the roll of bandages in his mouth. She kept whispering, half-sobbing apologies with each stitch. Phasma and Hux never said a word, but held him still enough for her (admittedly already shaky) hands to get the job done.

At some point, nearing the end of the stitches, the writhing lessened. The screaming dwindled. Kylo grew still. Almost disconcertingly so. She pressed fingers to his pulse point. There. Weak, but there.

“Done,” she finally said, voice hoarse, as the scissors snipped the thread away from the last stitch.

“Well done,” Hux said, clapping her on the shoulder. She barely registered him, she was…she didn’t know if she was hyper-focused on the body of her (radar technician friend maybe more than that) commander, or if she was just hyper-focused on not collapsing in a bundle of nerves, not throwing up, not…losing it. “You all right?”

“Yeah...yes, that was the worst of it. I should be able to handle everything on my own from here.”

Lies. So many lies.

“Let us know if you need anything else,” Phasma said. “For him or for you.” They were already gone before she could look up at them. To thank them.

She cut away at his clothes, to look for more wounds than the ones she could readily see. Bruising, smaller cuts and abrasions…nothing else worrying asides from his leg, his shoulder, and his face.

More dabbing away with alcohol, to prevent infection. Taping gauze and rolling of bandages. She soaked some gauze in cold water from the sink in the nearby bathroom and pressed it to his forehead, away from the scar; he was starting to feel feverish.

Please, don’t let infection have set in, she thought.

She found blankets and sheets in a closet and covered his mostly bare body with them. Trying not to think how she had the perfect opportunity to study his body. Determine whether or not he “had an eight-pack”. If he was “shredded”. So she could tell Matt.

Only she couldn’t.

She settled down in a chair at the head of the bed, next to his head. His scarred face.

This face she knew and didn’t know.

The face of her friend, seen many times before. The face of her commander, never seen before.

One and the same face.

“I hear his face is the best.”

Even with the scar…how could she not think it was the most beautiful face in the world?

It was her friend, who she knew cared about her. It was her commander, who at the very least respected her…maybe cared about her.

And she thought back since she’d met Matt. Since she’d met Kylo. 

And it all made so much sense.

And he was so beautiful.

She took his hand, lifted it to study it. Scars on his palm, familiar and new. Healed and healing.

This man…this broken man, whom she knew and didn’t know, wanted to know, always wanted to know, know everything about him…

…he was broken. He was strong.

She kissed the scars on his palm, and when that was done, held his hand nestled against her cheek, trembling, tears loose and sliding between his fingers.

After seconds, minutes, hours, she didn’t know…he stirred. He moaned.

“Mmm…who…who’s there?”

She managed a smile through her tears and whispered:

“No one. No one’s here.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback welcome and appreciated.

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback welcome and appreciated. 
> 
> (Also encouragement to finish this damn thing.)


End file.
